Hour of Need
by Seyyed
Summary: Arthur’s sister was raised apart from him in Rome for most of their lives. When she begins to fear for her life she flees to Briton to reunite with her brother once more; will she find freedom with the knights or is life a game of chance she can't win?
1. Chapter 1

:Summary: Arthur's sister was raised apart from him in Rome for most of their lives, but Aemilia has never fit well with holy Roman ways. When she begins to fear for her life she flees to Briton to reunite with her brother once more; will she find freedom along with the knights, or will she be swallowed whole by the shadows that follow her?

Movie Canon with several changes made along the way.

:Disclaimer: I do not own 'King Arthur' or any characters associated with the film or legends. All I have is my imagination and OC.

_Also, I thought I'd note that even though the fort in which the knights and Arthur reside in at Hadrian's Wall is never mentioned in the movie I've gone ahead and used its name for this story. The fort in the film was based on Vindolanda, a Roman fort built around 80 AD just south of Hadrian's Wall…._

Hour of Need

Aemilia did not remember her father, perhaps her brother harbored his memory, but not she. She knew his name had been Artorius, Arthur, as her brother was now so named. She knew he had been Roman and a great warrior to his people. She knew he had loved her mother, or at least enough so to marry her and have two children by her before his death. But Aemilia didn't remember the man so much as she remembered the name; if she was asked to describe his face or the sound of his voice or the touch of his hand, she couldn't tell you a single thing. She imaged her brother must look a great deal like him now, but even her memory of her brother's face was a blurring image in her mind; what was left of it belonged to a young boy, not the man he'd undoubtedly grown to be during their separation. She remembered his green eyes though; green as spring grass and so tolerant… she wondered vaguely if his eyes would be so accepting when he saw her again? Would he even recognize her face?

It had been fifteen years since they'd shared in each other's company. They had been close when they were young, yes, but fifteen years is a long time. Time changes many things; letters were written every year between them, but you can only know a person so much through a letter. Words on paper are not the same as words spoken from the mouth.

A brother's love written in ink is nothing like love shown face to face.

And Arthur had been raised Roman through and through for years. He was taught to believe in one God, trust in that God and in the church. The church was always right; to defy the church was to defy God himself. What would he, a good and strong Roman Christian, want of his heretic sister who believed in the devilish pagan ways of their damned mother? She was a heathen according to the church, a dangerous sinner that must be done away with quickly – they'd already rid the world of her beloved mentor and guardian, Bishop Pelagius, a man who'd been as much a father to her as a teacher since her childhood…

Speak too loudly of any negative opinion you might have against the Pope and his church, reveal a fault, and you lose your head. Become associated with the heretic and everyday you live the public crucifies you with their words and accusing stares. They cut open your throat with their whispers, and burn you alive with the fire in their eyes. And even after a year most were still too lost, either by fear or blind devotion, in the decree of the church to see that she was no threat to any man, woman, or child.

She was the heathen wench who evaded the executioner's blade by the name of her brother and his name alone.

Despite her worries and fears of rejection, Aemilia still swallowed her breath and pressed her pen to parchment. She wrote to her last remaining kin, her brother by blood; what else was there for her to do? She had nowhere else to go and Rome had provided her no warmth or comfort since Pelagius' death – Hadrian's Wall was her final hope for survival, her brother the only hope for a home and belonging she had left to her. And she told him this. She told him everything. She told him of Pelagius' murder and the fear she harbored with every passing day. She told him of the sleepless nights she spent listening to the rattle of her door and shouts from the streets from the drunkards emboldened by their liquor who found quarrel with her ways. She confessed her weakness to him in black ink; she confessed her mounting trepidation that should she remain in Rome she would not survive another year.

If she was not to be victimized by the church, then she was certain the people would see to it themselves. She was sure there were those who counted on it…

She explained it would take some time for her to arrive at his gates, but by the time he received this letter she should be half through the journey already. She prayed him well and in good humor when he read this, hoping that he would at the very least willingly accept her arrival with the tolerance he had shown as a child if openly embracing her, welcome as kin, was out of the question.

Aemilia sealed the signed parchment, pressing a kiss to the front with nervous breath and a whispered prayer to whomever would listen – be it God or spirits or some other being.

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Brought together for reasons unknown to them, the remaining six knights of Briton chattered mindlessly with one another from their individual places around Arthur's unorthodox round table. Goblets of ale accompanied them as they tossed good natured insults around the table at one another; each guessing at what kind of urgency would cause their leader to call them together now so soon after a safe return. The Woads had calmed their rage and thirst for blood for now; both a blessing and a cause for weary concern. Clearly, they were scheming; of what exactly no one could really be certain.

The Woads were crafty devils, if nothing else.

"Two pints says we're to go gallivanting off on some other damn mission," Galahad leaned far back in his seat and shook a coarse hand through his curls. Irritation sharpened the expression on his young face, "It's always another mission."

The others could not argue. The humor amongst them sobered at Galahad's admission; they were all bitter and each of them knew it to be true. A few days peace was sure to be broken for one reason or another; if not because of the Woads, then the Saxon or some other sort of man deemed an enemy by Rome. There never seemed to be an end…

All the men lifted their heads as the doors to the chamber where flung open, the wood crashing back against the stone walls with a loud clank that echoed throughout the room and sent vibrations up the legs of the chairs the knights sat in. They stood as Arthur entered, each mindful of the man's agitated gait and shared wondering glances at it; their nerves suddenly jumping and hyper aware. There were few things in this world that made Arthur anxious…

"I take it this meeting brings no good will to us," Lancelot observed as Arthur made his way to his place at their near empty table.

The commander braced his hands on the back of his seat, his jaw flexed and his eyes roamed the table top. Arthur Castus looked shaken and in turn so did his knights now look much the same; he shook his head and looked to the dark knight down the table to his left. "No," he breathed, "I bring no ill news, my knights, do not worry. The news I bring… it is good."

"Then what the bloody hell are you shakin' for?" Bors demanded and Gawain nodded the same.

"I've received a letter-"

"From who?" Lancelot barked out around a laugh, "Your God himself?"

"From my sister." Arthur finished, looking only mildly riled by his friend's interruption.

The expression on the faces of his men shifted swiftly, swinging from one to another in the time it took to blink. Even Tristan, stoic as always, looked surprised. Arthur nodded as though answering a question none had managed to ask yet; certain now that they at least somewhat understood his unease.

"Sister?" Gawain exclaimed, looking utterly dumbfounded by this new development, "You have a sister?"

"Since when?" Galahad joined in the questioning, looking as thunderstruck as his blond companion, "And why the hell is this the first time we are hearing of her?"

"Since I was two," Arthur informed. He turned an uncertain eye over the rest of his men and to the door tight shut beyond them. "And…I've not seen her in some fifteen years."

"That's no excuse for keeping such a secret from us!" Galahad huffed, looking to Gawain for support and finding it there in his nodding head.

"How did her letter read?" Dagonet asked from the side, expression inquisitive as he pulled Arthur's attention away from the two younger, eager knights.

"She asks for refuge here amongst us," Arthur explained. He looked anxious once more while he spoke slow and clear, "She has been met with dissension in Rome… her safe keeper was deemed a heretic and killed. She fears she will meet the same fate as he should she remain in Rome."

"She is a Roman?" Galahad interjected, "What a waste!"

"Waste? A woman's a woman," Gawain countered. "What does it matter so long as she's soft and fair?" Lancelot laughed and agreed, arching a teasing brow at Arthur and smirking when the man only frowned at him.

Galahad's face scrunched in a mix of humor and disgust, "They turn a bed to ice! Besides," he quipped, "when you take a Roman to bed with you, you take the Pope and his Church as well." Gawain and Lancelot joined the youngest knight in a bantering laugh.

"Ah, shut up, you idiots," Bors barked at his fellows and then jutted his chin out thoughtfully to Arthur, dark eyes narrowed, "When should we be 'xpecting her?"

"In another two weeks, three at the most," Arthur sighed. "She'll come by caravan most likely; amongst traders or other travelers like herself. Or perhaps even alone; from how she told of it, it didn't sound as though she wanted much of anyone to know she was leaving or to where she was leaving…"

"And what name should our ears keep open to when she arrives?" Lancelot asked thoughtfully.

"Her name is Aemilia," Arthur answered easily enough. He'd spent his late evening hours the night before reading and rereading the young woman's letter, applying her script to memory and wracking his brain for every recollection he had of the girl – they'd been few and far between, but he managed to unearth a satisfactory amount. "Aemilia Castus, or so she was called when we were children…"

"What's she like?" Galahad asked.

"What do you care what she's like?" Gawain chuckled, "Looking to bed the Pope?"

Galahad frowned as the rest laughed at him, "Very funny… But honestly! I think it's a reasonable question to be asking." He gestured around himself, "If she's to be living here shouldn't we know something of her before she arrives? Other than that Rome apparently has as much a dislike of her as it does us."

"Yes," Lancelot arched an amused brow, "but are you inquiring as to her manners and charm or to her looks?"

"I think knowledge of both would be highly beneficial to us all," Galahad answered and shared a grin with Gawain. The young knight gestured towards ever silent Tristan, "Wouldn't you agree, Tris?" But the question was met with the man's usual silence; he looked rather bored, actually. Galahad waved the man off, rolling his eyes, "Ach! Never mind. It's no use even asking him… he'd rather bed his hawk then a woman anyway."

"There will be no bedding. Ever." Arthur warned his knights, Gawain and Galahad especially, brows lifting threateningly as he looked between their teasing faces. "Aemilia is my little sister and she is to be greeted with the utmost respect and honor for so long as she chooses to stay. Understand?"

"Of course, of course," Galahad grinned at his stone faced commander and friend, "We only jest, Arthur. Nothing to worry about…" He made a beckoning motion with his hand, "Now come on. What's this sister of yours like?"

The men around the table all turned their eyes up expectantly to their commander and Arthur took the time to look them each in the face before turning in on himself to answer. His shoulder shrugged slowly, brows lifting as he shook his head, "I will be learning of her as much as you all will be when she arrives. It has been many years since I've shared her company…"

"But she's your sister," Gawain frowned. "Surely there is something about her you remember?"

"Not nearly enough to rightly call myself a brother…" Arthur shook his head. "I recall her being very much like our mother – she shadowed her in everything she did. She sang and helped mend and make clothing… she was a normal young girl I suppose."

"And how does her face fair?" Galahad asked impulsively. The look Arthur gave him, however, made him back over his words and revoke them, looking sheepish as he did.

"What of the Woads?" All heads turned to Tristan as the solemn man spoke up for the first time since they'd gathered together. The scout ignored their stares, looking to Arthur, "They've a knack for ambushing caravans and wagons…"

Arthur's brow knitted together under the hefty weight of the notable threat, "…In the weeks to come a patrol party shall venture out to meet any and all passing travelers. If the Woads are to attack they will do so were roads are closest to the forests, no more than an hour's ride from here." He looked around at his men, "One knight will travel with each patrol to guard and welcome Aemilia to Vindolanda and the wall."

The men agreed with the purposed plan and decided amongst themselves who would accompany the first patrol when the time came. Dagonet volunteered to be the first, Gawain the second, and Lancelot the third; Tristan was decided fourth, Bors fifth, and Galahad brought up the rear with sixth. The order would remain the same after all six had gone through their designated patrol, starting again with Dagonet should Aemilia not turn up before the end of Galahad's turn. It was decided that Arthur need not share in their patrols; his place was here at the wall after all, even if Aemilia was his sister. He could greet her upon her safe arrival – leave her travels to the knights.

"We will see to it that your sister arrives at Vindolanda safely," Lancelot assured Arthur, nodding his head and smiling confidently.

"Thank you, my brothers," Arthur nodded his sincere thanks to the men standing around the table with him. Their loyalty and devotion to him was palpable in the air around them; he knew he could always count on these men, in battle, with his own life, and with the lives of those he cared for.

"What a wonder…" Gawain grinned with a slow shake of his head at Arthur, "Reuniting after near two decades of separation."

Arthur nodded. It was a wonder… he'd never thought Aemilia would come to him here. He'd always believed he would see her again, but he had thought that time would come after his duty in Briton was done and he crossed over into Rome. Having her well on her way here to him was a shock; it had shaken him for some reason that still evaded him. And her vague news of Pelagius, the man that had been their father and Aemilia's safe keeper for so many years… hearing of the man's death in the same moment that he learned his sister was fleeing Rome to reside with him in Briton had floored the commander completely.

His mind was still reeling from the blow.

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Two weeks passed like slow torture for Arthur, the last of the two spent sending a new patrol out each day in waiting of his sister. Of those days, only two yielded traveling caravans on the roads and only a dozen lone travelers on foot or horse through the week – none answered to the name Aemilia Castus and Arthur was beginning to grow anxious. A thousand and one possibilities filled his head, thousands of worse case scenarios that made him fret in a manner his knights rarely saw in him.

"I'm sure she's fine and on her way, Arthur," Lancelot assured the nervous commander one evening at the end of the second week. The patrol and accompanying Galahad had just returned with a caravan, but there was no Aemilia among the travelers and Arthur's disappointment had been palpable upon discovering this. "The road from Rome to Briton is a long one."

Arthur had only nodded, knowing his first knight was right, but frustrated nonetheless. Lancelot noticed this and patted his friend on the back, casting a baiting grin sidelong at the man, "If the girl is anything like her brother then I know for a fact she will be fine…"

Arthur managed a small smile in return, but it was swept off his face almost too quickly to see. "That serves me no good. I do not know what she is like any longer, whether it be like me or you or something else entirely."

"What a nightmare!" Gawain exclaimed as he passed the two along with Galahad and Dagonet, "If you're ever to pray to your god again, let it be that she is nothing like Lancelot!"

"It would serve her well to be like me," the dark knight scowled at the younger man and the humor on everyone's faces at his expense. "What a sight she would be!"

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REVIEWS ARE HIGHLY APPRICIATED!

:EDIT: I've decided on the pairing! Thanks to those who voted for your input!!


	2. Chapter 2

:Summary: Arthur's sister was raised apart from him in Rome for most of their lives, but Aemilia has never fit well with holy Roman ways. When she begins to fear for her life she flees to Briton to reunite with her brother once more; will she find freedom along with the knights, or will she be swallowed whole by the shadows that follow her?

Movie Canon with several changes made along the way.

:Disclaimer: I do not own 'King Arthur' or any characters associated with the film or legends. All I have is my imagination and OC.

**:Special Thanks To:** TragicCure, Anime Princess, Scottishgal12, Danish-Girl-Helene, SilverBladesGal, JWritten, Winchester Girls 92 93 95, Lady Marek, Marebear007, kraenky, valgal18, Maeve1667

**THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS AND INPUT!**

**The votes have been tallied:**

**Tristan - 5**

**Lancelot - 6**

Hour of Need

_Chapter Two_

It was raining the day she arrived in Briton. The gloom of such an omen chilled her to the bone; if the day could not bring itself to smile on this day how was she to expect it to smile upon her ever again? It made it hard for Aemilia to keep going and at the same time she didn't have a choice. She couldn't return to Rome, there was nothing left there for her, and her brother was expecting her – whether he waited in eagerness or annoyance was yet to be known, but she prayed it was the former of the two.

It had rained through the morning and into midday and Aemilia pulled the shawl she'd brought with her tighter around her shoulders to ward off the damp chill. Through the haze of the sky's insistent weeping she could see rolling hills of wild grass stretched out far, split down the center by the worn dirt path the caravan troop she'd joined followed, and framed along the far left by dripping forest trees. She imagined the sight Briton must be in the sun and warmth of a clear day. Through the rain she could smell how clean it seemed in comparison to Rome and here the world seemed so vast, boundless and open; Rome was such a closed and chaotic place with people shouting and demanding and hurrying through their lives like they'd lose it if they hesitated. It was easy to get lost in Rome, it was easy to lose yourself to the city and its politics and self-righteous indignation with its holy church and pope and so called geniuses. In Rome you lose sight of yourself so completely it takes removing yourself from her vast grasp before you even notice you've lost anything at all.

In Briton everything seemed in order; mentally, physically, spiritually. Everything came together in the freedom of its hills and forests and wild grasses and all at once, no matter how lost you had become, you find yourself again. You see yourself as you've never seen yourself before and despite the rain and gloom, the world is smiling upon you.

Aemilia smiled to herself. In Briton even a foul omen like endless rain wasn't so bad a thing for very long. Her fingers curled into the soft edge of her shawl, grey eyes watching the wind swept rain splatter in wet, translucent patterns against the wall of the caravan; the sound of it played out like a sleepy song and she felt her eyes dropping pleasantly in time to it. The wagons creaked wearily and the horses' hooves clomped and sloshed against the packed earth of the wet trail and Aemilia started to hum along with the country's song, head lulling against the wall she sat against in perfect sync with the wagon's slow rolling movement. So this was freedom…

Even if Arthur had nothing to do with her, she reasoned, she could be happy just to live as she was out in the rain here in Briton. Rome could not compare.

Her ease and groggy song came to a sudden stop as the wagon jerked, softly but no less noticeable to her, and stopped. Her eyes blinked open, head lifting off the wall and shawl sliding off one shoulder as she craned her neck around in hopes of discovering the reason for this unexpected stop. She was close to Hadrian's Wall and had been told the caravan would pass the wall and village within the day; stopping delayed her arrival and she'd rather not be. She wanted to see Arthur and accept whatever means of greetings he had for her – be it welcome into his life and home or rejection. The sooner she knew her standing the better and this stop would do nothing but prolong her anxiety over the matter.

A man from one of the wagons ahead of them came around to theirs and Aemilia called for his attention, "Sir, why have we stopped?" The man didn't look troubled, annoyed perhaps by this delay as much as she was, but he was calm enough so she immediately threw out the possibility of trouble on the road.

The man shrugged his shoulders at her, "Hell if I should know, milady." He pointed up ahead beyond Aemilia's range of sight, "Some knight by the looks of it. Sounds to me like he's lookin' for someone…" He shrugged again and carried on his way, but Aemilia had stopped listening to him already by then.

At the mentioning of a knight she'd taken to searching out ahead as far around the other wagons as she could see. A knight this close to Hadrian's Wall could be none other but one of Arthur's men, perhaps even Arthur himself. She strained her ears for sound above the rain and could make out the clomp and slosh of a horses' slow hooves coming down the line of wagons along with the vague shot of a man's voice and her heart sped up. If it was in fact Arthur did this mean he had come to welcome her? The prospect of being welcomed into her brother's life made the wait till the rider came to her wagon near unbearable and her breath caught when he finally did.

The man atop the horse was not Arthur.

Something in her knew it immediately and she tried to keep the disappointment from her face as he passed the wagon ahead of her and moved to hers. He looked board and the dark curls on his head drooped into his face, soaked straight through and clinging to his forehead, cheeks, and rugged jaw. The riding cloak he'd undoubtedly worn to guard himself against the weather had done nothing to keep him dry, nor warm if she were to hazard a guess. He was handsome, she could tell even through the rain and distance, and his eyes were as dark as the stead he rode upon – the same color as his soaked curls and jaw. His eyes sunk over the wagon in a way that clearly showed how little he thought he was going to find whatever it was he was looking for and Aemilia had to wonder just how long he'd been out in this downpour, stopping wagons and passing travelers.

"Castus?" he hoarsed out, stilling his horse as if to wait for an answer to the name he'd called. "Aemilia Castus?"

Despite knowing the man had to be one of her brother's knights, clearly out looking for her, she'd still been surprised to hear her name on his frowning lips. She hesitated, watching him sit as still as death on his horse for a moment longer, seeing his dark eyes scan over those occupying the wagon.

"Is there any here that answers to Aemilia Castus?" He tried again, irritation and disappointment clear on his dripping face.

She leaned forward out the opening of the wagon's side, catching his eye with the movement, "I answer to Aemilia Castus…"

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He was not a fan of rain and he never had been. It was cold and never failed to get in his eyes; it flattened out his hair and then it got in his eyes as well. It made clothing cling and chafe. Rain brought illness with it; rain filled rivers to flooding. Rain made the road turn to mud. Rain swallowed words and darkened skies. Rain could mask the sounds and smells of an approaching enemy, leaving them invisible until it's too late. The rain was a bad omen and he had as little love for it as it clearly had for him: none. And the fact that he was out in it now rather then dry and warm with a mug in one hand and a soft, pliable body in the other had everything to do with his devotion and obligation to Arthur rather then actually fancy.

He was in a foul mood, but the prospect of the day's end now quickly approaching kept his spirits high enough to avoid drowning in the flooding pits of this hapless country he was bound to. He'd been out in the rain, stopping wagons and travelers all day long and he was well beyond ready to return to the village and wall. The downfall of the day's end was returning to Vindolanda empty handed once more; Arthur was losing his mind over his sister and Lancelot wasn't sure how much longer he could handle the other man's anxiety. It was getting to them all; even Tristan seemed more inclined to lose his temper with their commander as of late. It had been near three weeks since Arthur had received that letter and still the damnable girl had not shown up; if she didn't show up soon Lancelot wasn't sure of what would become of Arthur – if his worry didn't kill him surely one of his knight eventually would.

"Castus?" He barked out the name a bit harshly, but it had been necessary if anyone was going to hear him over this blasted rain. "Aemilia Castus?"

Blank and somewhat curious stares crossed his from inside the wagon he stilled his horse alongside, the fifth and last wagon of this particular caravan. No answer came to his call and he breathed out a defeated sigh, hot and disappointed through his nose; the thought of returning to Arthur without his sister, yet again empty handed, was a thing of shame to him. Of course he knew promising the man he would return with the girl this day or never return again had been a mistake; it had been made in jesting and he was sure Arthur knew this, but still… the hope would be there and Lancelot had to return to crush it. He could practically see his oldest friend's crestfallen look already and it made the taste in his mouth go sour.

Not to mention he'd bet Bors a night of drinks that he would be the one to find this sister. Losing such a bet, especially to Bors, was not his idea of a pleasant night.

He tugged on the reins of his horse sharply, causing the noble creature to shift on his legs and step back. Lancelot scowled at the caravan and lifted his voice yet again, louder then before and hell bent on finding this girl, even if she wasn't there, "Is there any here that answers to Aemilia Castus?"

A shift towards the front of the wagon caught his eye and he turned to it in time to see a young woman he had not noticed before lean forward over the opening. "I answer to Aemilia Castus," she said and without a second thought he knew it was true. "Who is it that calls on me?"

She was a pretty little thing and of course, he noticed this immediately. Her hair was long and had been left free around her face and her eyes were clear; through the rain he could not be sure of their exact color. A wool shawl was pulled around her shoulders and rain was beginning to collect on her hair; she seemed a little too pale and cold but that was surely only an effect of the weather. He could easily see Arthur in the set of her eyes and curve of her soft jaw; the line of her brow and point of her nose even held some vague resemblance to his friend and commander, though her features all seemed a more gentle, subdued version of her brother's. There was no mistaking her as anything but Arthur's kin.

"I am called Lancelot, milady," he answered levelly enough. "I come at the bidding of Arthur Castus. He-"

"You are my brother's knight?" She interrupted him and he let her do so, gladly. A smile that should have been able to clear the skies lit up her face and he marveled at it; she was clearly Arthur's sister, despite how much they resembled each other Lancelot could not help but notice the difference in the air that surrounded them. Arthur was headstrong and at times stoic, he emptied himself of feelings for fear that they would be too strong and lead him to ruin – Aemilia… the air was electric around this young woman. Her smile consumed her entire face, unabashed and without a thought of restraint, and Lancelot could no longer even feel the rain from the warmth in it.

"I am," he nodded. "I am meant to escort you to Vindolanda. Your brother will receive you there." She drew her shawl tight around herself, her smile remaining on her face even as her eyes fell from his and turned inwards to her own thoughts; thoughts of her brother most likely. He left her to them, setting his horse forward to speak with the head of the caravan at the first wagon…

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The knight called Lancelot, with his handsome face and soggy curls, had returned shortly after his disappearance up the wagon line and the caravan had picked up its travels along with him. He calmly walked his horse alongside Aemilia's wagon, dark eyes never leaving the road before him for long and even though the rain had stopped he was still dripping. But he never complained about the chill he must have obviously been feeling straight through to the bone, not aloud to her at least. His mood seemed to have lightened with the end of the storm as well and from time to time she swore she could see a rather smug, accomplished glint flash in the corner of his shadow dark eyes.

Lancelot…

She was somewhat familiar with the name. Her brother had mentioned him once or twice in the letters they'd shared over the years, but only by name and nothing much beyond that. Arthur was fond of him, she knew, and he was supposedly a great fighter. A Sarmatian. But that was all she knew of him and the silence that had fallen over them since the wagons had started up again was not helping to remedy that problem.

"Sir Knight," she began, calling out to her escort from the opening in the wagon's wall. "You know my brother well, yes?"

The dark-haired knight, Lancelot, turned to the sound of her voice as he was addressed and those dark eyes stared while she spoke. His gaze clipped off to the corner while he nodded, expression thoughtful and lips quirked upward at one end. "I know him well enough I think."

"More so now then I, surely," she nodded in agreement. She looked away from him as his gaze fixed upon her once more, grey eyes on the damp but drying wild grass; she knew so little… Swallowing softly and drawing her shawl in closer against her she leaned her head back against the wagon side behind her, "Tell me about him?"

He didn't speak right away and she glanced to see him regarding her just as equally as he seemed to be regarding his own thoughts. He was a handsome man…

"Your brother…" he began and she ignored her appraisal of his face, focusing instead on his words. A sharp grin slashed across his mouth and his brow twitched, "is a dastardly fellow with more faith in god then he has in himself."

She frowned, "…oh." That had not been the description she had expected to hear from the man that came across to her as being her brother's closest friend and ally.

The man chuckled and she looked up to see him shooting her a humored look, "I jest with you, milady." He shot her an easy smile and shook his head, "No… your brother is a good man. The best I know in fact. But he does have a rather annoying knack for trusting his god before trusting himself… or others much nearer to him then god. I've been trying to break him of it for years."

"I take it he is not very fond of heretics then," she frowned despite the humor in his expression.

"Well, he has never refused my company." Lancelot offered, "And I denounce his god near everyday."

She did chuckle then. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised to hear of her brother's blind faith in the church and Christianity; she'd known that to be true for years. Still, it didn't make her worry any less…

"Sir Knight…" she began again but then stopped, hesitant. "Does Arthur… When he received my letter, did he…"

"Milady," Lancelot interrupted, recognizing the anxiety that filled her light eyes – it was the same anxiety he'd seen on her brother's face since the day he'd announced Aemilia would be coming. "Your brother awaits your arrival eagerly."

"Really?"

He nodded and watched the sharp edge of her fear slip away from her eyes – they looked blue from his place on his horse, but he couldn't be certain they actually were blue. It didn't seem right to him; perhaps they were green, like Arthur's? But still that seemed off to him. "You are all he talks about," Lancelot continued for the sake of seeing her smile, if only once more. "He has been a mess these past weeks. More and more so each day you did not arrive. I am glad to have found you if only to end his suffering."

She smiled, "I am glad to have been found."

She turned her face away to look out at the grasses and tree line beyond him to the left, which he had noticed she frequently did, but he remained looking at her.

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REVIEWS ARE HIGHLY APPRICIATED!


	3. Chapter 3

:Summary: Arthur's sister was raised apart from him in Rome for most of their lives, but Aemilia has never fit well with holy Roman ways. When she begins to fear for her life she flees to Briton to reunite with her brother once more; will she find freedom along with the knights, or will she be swallowed whole by the shadows that follow her?

Movie Canon with several changes made along the way.

:Disclaimer: I do not own 'King Arthur' or any characters associated with the film or legends. All I have is my imagination and OC.

**:Special Thanks To:** Marebear007, valgal18,TragicCure, Danish-Girl-Helene, Maeve1667, Inthannon

**THANKS FOR YOUR REVIEWS AND INPUT!**

Hour of Need

_Chapter Three_

Lancelot had not realized how lightly Aemilia had packed for her journey to Briton until the caravan rolled to a stop just outside Vindolanda and the young woman climbed out to join him as he dismounted his horse. She'd brought the shawl around her shoulders and what looked to be like nothing else beyond the simple dress she came in. It truly must have been a 'drop everything and run' situation for her and he was only just now beginning to realize it. The only time he'd ever been in a similar state was the day they'd taken him away to join Arthur and the other boys he'd train and grow up with; but even then that was hardly the same thing. He'd been taken away by duty, she'd left for fear of her life. He couldn't rightly say he'd ever felt such a thing before and he let his mind wonder as he led her through the gate and handed his horse's reins off to the stable hand.

What must she had gone through that she should feel compelled to leave the place she'd called home for most all her life? Not that Rome was much of a place for a home in his mind, but according to Arthur it had been the only one she'd known for years; and then to suddenly pick up and leave it all behind, out of fear of your neighbors. He shook his head at the idea of it.

He motioned for her to follow him and she did, silently, those colorless eyes of hers roaming the village and its people as he led her through it.

"Lancelot!" Gawain, having spotted the still drying knight, shouted for his attention as he approached his fellow. "It's hardly day's end, you filthy cheat! Arthur'll tear you to pieces if he finds out you left your post early because of a little rain…"

Lancelot's lips stretched out on his face as he patted Gawain's back, looking smug as ever. "I think being the only man to return successful merits an early turn in, don't you?"

"Success?" The shaggy-haired knight frowned at the other smug, rain rumpled knight. His eyes passed Lancelot to the young woman he'd failed to pay much mind to before, "So then you've…?"

Lancelot turned a hand, palm up, back to Aemilia, "I give you Aemilia Castus."

"Aemilia?" The sound of Arthur's unmistakable voice caught all of their attention and each turned to see him standing just a ways off with Galahad, Dagonet, Bors, and Tristan not far off from him.

"Arthur…" Aemilia felt her lungs tighten at the sight of him, knowing him in an instant and startled to find him looking straight at her, no doubt in his green eyes as to who she was. She was equally as startled when the man came towards her with open arms and a smile, enveloping her in a warm and welcoming hug. She hadn't even dreamed to hope Arthur would welcome her so completely like this and felt long overdue tears blur the edges of her vision as she returned the hug she was given.

The knights stood around the pair, some looking a bit more surprised then others by Arthur's show of affection and emotion towards this young woman they hardly knew a thing about. Lancelot passed a look around at his fellows to gauge each of their reactions; Bors and Dagonet stood side by side, Bors looking as curious as Bors could get and Dagonet regarding the siblings with that soft acceptance he regarded most things with. Tristan stood, apple and knife in hand, slicing into the fruit and munching down on the pieces with his eyes trained on them, seeing and knowing in his silence. Galahad's young eyes were… well, young and curious, seeking out Aemilia's face and grinning at the sight of her. She was a very pretty girl after all. He looked a little more uneased by Arthur then the rest of them, but the sight of Aemilia seemed enough to distract him. Gawain was much like Galahad, looking over the new comer with an interest Lancelot could sympathize with – at least the elder of the duo was less obvious in the attention he paid the girl; Galahad's attraction was easily read on his face and Lancelot found it both annoying and largely humorous.

"Did I not say I'd return with her or not return at all?" Lancelot threw out at Arthur as the pair backed out of their embrace. He turned nudged Bors, his grin turning into a full out smirk, "I believe you owe me a drink…or two or three."

Bors grumbled unhappily and Gawain laughed at the older man's misfortune.

Arthur waved the banter away, hands on Aemilia's shoulders and keeping her close to him as he led her away from the streets.

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Lancelot smirked at the expression Arthur wore, knowing full well that the man kept his face bare and still as a means of hiding the true happiness he felt. The show did nothing to impress Lancelot, even if Arthur refused to show it the dark knight knew it was there. He could see it in his old friend's eyes. He dropped a pint on the table in front of the commander, moving down the table to his usual place four chairs to the left of the man. He lounged back in the chair comfortably; balancing his own pint between his hands, he watched Arthur take a silent, distracted gulp from his own.

"You know, I used to think the way you always came here to think was stupid." The slighter knight confessed around an easy grin, glancing around the room half heartedly, "I see now why you do. The quiet."

Only a fraction of the candles lining the walls of the room were lit; a large number had burned themselves out over the course of the day, cooling and dying without notice. In an hour the rest would be gone as well; Lancelot had watched one flicker, a final struggle for life, and then die as he spoke. The round table, once full all around at the start of their journey fifteen years ago now stood silent and empty save for them. Was it a grim omen or foreshadowing of things to come? An empty table? Perhaps. But now was not the time for such thoughts or concerns – those could be saved for more sorrowful days.

"I want to thank you, Lancelot." Arthur said, slow and low. With the room so vacant and quiet it almost felt as though one had to whisper. "It did me good to see Aemilia well."

Lancelot shrugged, "Wasn't so hard a thing to do. The fact that she came on my day was purely chance."

"Nevertheless."

Lancelot nodded, accepting his friend's thanks and turning the rim of his mug down to his lips.

"She is exactly as I remember her." Arthur confessed slowly to the other man, green eyes fixed on his drink. He made a breathless sound, like a tired chuckle, and shook his head. "She is exactly the same. Older, but still the same… I can hardly believe she's real."

Lancelot studied the man, "I imagine it's better that way. If she were anything but the girl you remember I would have to think she would be harder to accept." Arthur's brows twitched, and he nodded in an agreeing manner; Lancelot set his mug on the tabletop. He eyed the other curiously, "How is she?"

"Asleep." Arthur sighed, "We shared a meal and I had her settled into a room along the west wing. She was tired."

Lancelot nodded, "…She was eager to see you. Frightened, but eager."

Arthur chuckled, "She did seem unsettled by my welcome."

"No," Lancelot shared the man's humor, "Galahad was unsettled by your welcome. She was overjoyed."

"Was she?"

"You could not see her face. The rest of us could." Lancelot arched a brow, "Perhaps not the best of things where Galahad is concerned. He took a liking to her before speaking a word to her."

Arthur eyed his friend carefully, "And you, Lancelot? You shared an hour with her to yourself. And I am sure you spoke more then a word to her."

Lancelot laughed, "Arthur… she is a lovely little thing, I assure you. But she is your sister. On principle I could never…"

"Principle? Have you such a thing?" Arthur smirked at the look the other gave him.

"This is different, my friend, I assure you."

"Is it?"

"Very."

"Good," Arthur gave a curt nod. "I am sorry, Lancelot, but I could not give you blessing."

"There are no blessings to give, Arthur!" Lancelot rolled his eyes, "You are my brother… your sister is as good as my own."

Arthur regarded the man carefully, obviously weary of him and the humor in his eyes but nodded in the end. "Then I must ask something of you…"

"I've brought your sister home to you, Arthur." Lancelot grinned at the man, sarcastic, "What more could you possibly want of me?"

"Look after her while she's here." The grin fell off Lancelot's face, but Arthur continued nonetheless, "If you swear to me she will be nothing but a sister in your eyes then I can trust you to care for her without worry."

"Care for her? Arthur, I'm not a child's guardian. I cannot-"

"I am not asking that you be her guardian. I only ask that you keep a watchful eye on her, when it is possible for you to do so." Arthur shrugged, "Perhaps share an hour of your day with her to show her Vindolanda, or the better sides of Briton. Help her to feel at home here when I cannot." He shrugged, "Be a brother to her."

"Why not Gawain or Galahad?"

"They've showed interest in her, you told me so yourself. If I leave her alone to them they will try as hard as any man to woo her to their favor." Arthur frowned at Lancelot, "You know they will."

"Then let Bors or Dagonet do it. Tristan even!"

Arthur shook his head, "No. No, Lancelot, it must be you or no one."

"But-!"

"My trust is strongest in you, brother."

Lancelot stared at the man, mouth open and posed for argument. But none came. He let out a breath, shoulders slouching as though utterly defeated and head shaking as he looked off to the side, away from his friend. When his gaze returned to the other man his brows were creased, as though annoyed, but he nodded; reluctant but accepting. "Fine, Arthur. I will not make you any promises, but… I will do what I can for her."

"That is all that I ask."

"Ever think that perhaps you ask too much of me?"

Arthur smirked, "What good are you if I can not push you to breaking?"

"What good am I broken?" Lancelot arched a challenging brow, voice high and indignant.

"You would have it no other way." Arthur said confidently, sure of himself and obviously so, "You would find offence with me if I did not challenge you." His expression softened, "She is not a difficult girl, Lancelot. Her temperament is fair and she's a level head on her shoulders; she will not cause you unnecessary grief. She has never been one to cause trouble so long as I have known her."

"She has been absent of you for fifteen years, Arthur." Lancelot gruffed, "How are you to know she has not become an intolerable beast?"

Arthur smiled, "Because she has not changed at all, Lancelot. She is still the simple, good natured spirit I lived with; her only difference has been to become a woman without my realizing it."

"You had best be right," Lancelot frowned as he gulped down the remainder of his ale. The taste of it had changed; he almost didn't have the stomach to swallow it.

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REVIEWS ARE HIGHLY APPRICIATED!


	4. Chapter 4

:Summary: Arthur's sister was raised apart from him in Rome for most of their lives, but Aemilia has never fit well with holy Roman ways. When she begins to fear for her life she flees to Briton to reunite with her brother once more; will she find freedom along with the knights, or will she be swallowed whole by the shadows that follow her?

Movie Canon with several changes made along the way.

:Disclaimer: I do not own 'King Arthur' or any characters associated with the film or legends. All I have is my imagination and OC.

**:Special Thanks To:** TragicCure, Maeve1667, Anime Princess, JWritten, valgal18

**THANKS FOR YOUR REVIEWS AND INPUT!**

Hour of Need

_Chapter Four_

Waking in her new room in Vindolanda, knowing her brother's own rooms were not far off from hers, had been a strange affair for Aemilia. Strange, but wonderful. The room she had now was simpler and a bit smaller then the room she'd had in Rome, yet she felt more at ease in this strange place then she ever had in Rome. Perhaps it had been the quiet through the night that had done her in… no drunkards at her door and windows. There had been no fear in her last night; she was sure that hard largely to do with knowing Arthur was not far.

Aemilia smiled as she sat up on her new bed, stretching her arms over her sleep tussled head and sighing pleasantly. Arthur's reception of her the previous day had been astounding to her; of all the ways and things she imagined he do in greeting of her, encasing her in his arms had never been one of them. She'd been so overwhelmed by it that she had started crying; his embrace had been so tight and warm. It had been the desperate embrace of a man, a brother, who had long awaited reunion with his kin. With her. She'd never felt so welcome anywhere in all her life; the thought that she had ever been worried now seemed so silly to her.

There was a window in her room, glass in a simple frame, that sat closed in the wall near the foot of her bed. Pushing out of bed and crossing over to it she immediately unhooked the latch and pushed it open to sneak a peek of Vindolanda and Briton as it woke. She could see the wild grasses and forest trees in the distance of the village and the wall and heard the sleepy morning bustle of the villagers preparing for their day. Closer still to her window was the sound of wood against wood and morning laughter; if she craned her neck around to the right and looked a ways down, she could just make out an open area along the wall of the building her room was a part of where a few of her brother's knights appeared to already be up and practicing. She recognized faces from the day before, such as the one with long, scruffy blond hued hair and the tall silent one who had been eating the apple. The young one who had appeared closest to age with her with dark hair was there as well, as was Lancelot. But Lancelot was the only one she knew by name as of yet. Perhaps she could convince Arthur into a formal introduction to each of these men for her; they were the knights of legend after all and each of them had known her brother for as long as she had been apart from him. She smiled at the vague, but unmistakable sound of banter coming up to her window from them.

This was the freedom she'd longed for. This was the homeland of her mother that Pelagius had often told her about.

Pelagius…

Aemilia's brows drew tight at the thought of her safe keeper, guardian, teacher, and father. He'd often confessed his desire to see her safe and living freely in Briton again some day and she was glad to finally be granting his wish. She only wished he could have been alive to see her off, perhaps even join her – Pelagius had been just as fond of Arthur as he had been of her and she knew Arthur's respect and love for the man matched, if not rivaled, her own. Pelagius would have gladly come to Briton with her, to be reunited with Arthur just as she would be. She wondered how Arthur had taken her letter's news of Pelagius' death… she wondered how she would possibly have the strength to share the whole truth of the matter with the man. Arthur deserved to know; it was just a hard thing to think about, let alone share.

She had to put it off for a little while. Right now things were too pleasant and she was in too high of spirits to discover Arthur glad to see her again to willingly put a damper on it all now. Yes… it was better to wait for now. She was being selfish and she knew it in her heart, but she couldn't help it. She wanted her brother to find happiness in her company. She wanted him to think only pleasant thoughts when he thought of her, not as the bearer of the death of the man he had respected most and thought of as a father.

Shaking her head of these dark thoughts, Aemilia turned from her window and eyed the room around her. There was a bed that had obviously been made up for her in advance with clean, new coverings and a sitting table against the wall opposite it. A carved, wooden clothing hutch leaned against the wall across from her and the window and her eyes caught on it, smile returning and stretching out eagerly. Leaving her window open, Aemilia crossed over to the carved armoire and tugged the doors open to glance curiously inside – to her surprise she found a few dresses already hanging in waiting for her and she laughed at the thought of Arthur going this far to prepare for her arrival.

If she'd ever had any ounce of doubt in her as to whether Arthur wanted her to stay here with him or not it was all gone now. A knight sent out in the rain to intercept her travels and escort her here, a room aired out and set for her, new coverings on her bed, an armoire with new dresses waiting for her… Her heart warmed at just how welcomed Arthur was trying to make her feel.

Retrieving a simple yellow dress from the armoire, Aemilia set about dressing and pulling her hair back from her face. She was eager to see what Briton held for her and Arthur again this morning; she needed to thank him for what he had done for her.

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"How's it that you should be the one to escort her?" Galahad barked impatiently, "You brought her here. You've had your time with her!"

"It was by Arthur's choice, not mine." Lancelot wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

"Fine." Galahad scowled irritably, "Then why were you Arthur's choice and not I? Or Gawain, or Tristan? Or any other man here? We are all fully capable of watching over Lady Aemilia!"

"Because I've no interest in wooing her," the dark knight arched a brow at the younger man. "Unlike some."

Gawain barked out a laugh, letting the practice sword he was using in his spare against Tristan drop to his side. He braced his free hand on his hip and shook his blond mane, "No interest in wooing her? Have you forgotten who you are, sir?" he laughed again, "For so long as I have known you, you have never found lack of interest in any fair woman with the misfortune to cross your path."

"She is Arthur's sister and so likewise to I," Lancelot insisted.

"What nonsense!" Gawain clucked, "She is not your sister, Lancelot."

"Nevertheless," Lancelot scowled. "And besides, I do not find her so fair…"

"Bite your tongue!" Galahad pointed his practice sword at the older knight, "She is plenty fair!"

"She is pretty," Lancelot agreed with a tone as though he were speaking to a small, annoying child, "but pretty is too common a thing."

"Your arrogance is too common a thing," Tristan offered from the side with a single nod of his braided head. Gawain chuckled at the scout's calm dig, glancing off to the side as he did and catching sight of the topic of their discussion stepping out onto the streets.

Gawain linked his arm around Lancelot's neck and drew the man in close as he pointed the girl out with his wooden sword. The grin that broadened both his and Galahad's faces bore a startling difference to Lancelot's petulant frown. Gawain released his frowning fellow to cup a hand against his mouth, calling out to Aemilia and waving her towards them.

Galahad scoffed in Lancelot's direction as they watched the young woman turn towards Gawain's call, looking surprised at first and then smiling at once. "Oh no, not a fair sight at all…" he muttered at the dark knight, giving him a cross look but covering it over with a charming smile as Aemilia closed the distance between her and the four knights.

"Good morrow, milady," Gawain greeted immediately, smile welcoming and wide.

"Good morrow, knights," Aemilia waved, returning the smiles she received with one of her own. Her eyes turned around them and landed on Lancelot, her smile widening just so at the edges and eyes brightening in recognition of him, "I see you've dried properly, Sir Lancelot."

"So I have," he answered lamely. He could feel the sour look Galahad was giving him and refused to grace the younger with even a glance; Aemilia was a sight this morning. She'd been pretty through the rain the day before, and her beauty seemed to have grown with the sun shining on her now. Her dark hair was pulled back and pinned, still down and soft but kept away from her face. The dress she wore was still simple, but fresh and clean without the creases of long travels folded into it; it was yellow with white floral stitching along the rounded collar, straight cut but flattering to her form. Her skin, which he had once thought to be a bit too pale was much warmer, clear and fresh, now that she was dry and well rested.

She was fair and Lancelot felt himself eating his words. He'd never admit it aloud though; he would not give Galahad the satisfaction.

"Where are you off to this day, milady?" Galahad shouldered himself around Lancelot, obviously bent on having Aemilia's full attention on him and as far from Lancelot as he could get it.

"I meant to see Arthur actually, but he wasn't in his room when I went by," she explained. "So I thought I'd take a walk and see Vindolanda, now that it's clear and I've the energy to do so."

"Might I-" Gawain began, but faltered when Galahad nudged him meaningfully. "Might _we _accompany you then, Milady?"

"Isn't right for a maiden so fair as you to wander a village on her own," Galahad added and Gawain nodded his agreement.

"Oh…" Aemilia looked between the men, "I… only so long as it doesn't interfere with your plans. Weren't you in the middle of practice?" She gestured to the wooden swords the knights all held.

"No interference at all, milady." Gawain gave her a charming wink, "We've finished for the day anyway. And I for one would be honored to tour you around Vindolanda."

"As would I!" Galahad jumped on board and Tristan nodded the same.

Aemilia smiled around at the eager group, "Then I would be honored to have the company."

"Shall our day begin then?" Gawain tossed his sword aside and extended his arm to her, grin charming and eyes pleasant. Aemilia nodded and took the knight's arm, aware and flattered by the attention these men were paying her; they were a handsome bunch and plenty friendly.

As Gawain began to escort her away along with Tristan and Galahad, Aemilia turned her head around to look back at Lancelot. He'd fallen silent and in the commotion and flare of attention she had nearly forgotten he had been there, had not seen him move away from the bunch. She saw the tense look on his face as she looked back and gave him a tentative smile when his frown turned to her. "Won't you come too, Sir Lancelot?"

The dark knight softened his expression at the tentative look of her face, apologetic that she had caught him in his irritation. He shook his head though, averting his eyes rather dismissively despite himself, "No. I've pressing matters to attend to."

She only nodded her head, accepting of his obvious rejection of her company. His scowl turned inward into himself when she continued to smile in the face of his ill mood; his fellow knights were not so forgiving though. The sour expression was back on Galahad's face and Gawain simply shook his head, frowning. He was sure if Tristan was a man more inclined to show or voice his disapproval of things he would have earned similar expressions from him as well – as it were, the scout didn't even look back at him.

The four walked away and Lancelot busied his mind with continued, although now solo, practice.

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With Gawain, Galahad and Tristan flanking and guiding her, Aemilia had seen most of everything there was to see in Vindolanda by late afternoon. She'd seen the market, the stables, walked the streets where homes stood, met the baker and blacksmith and a dozen other people in between. The day had been a fun filled one and she found herself laughing through most of it, whether it be from something Gawain said or Galahad did or something Tristan failed to do or say. She'd enjoyed the knights' company and was confident they had also enjoyed hers. They'd shared a meal in each other's company and she'd become acquainted with them each, knowing each now by name.

As early evening descended upon them, Galahad stole Aemilia's hand in his and tugged on it lightly for her attention – a bold move in his fellow's opinion, but perfectly all right with the girl herself. He smiled and she returned the expression.

"Come join us at the pub, Aemilia," the youngest knight implored with a wide grin on his young, handsome face, turning Aemilia's hand in to link his arm around hers. Aemilia had done away with the 'milady' title earlier, asking them to address her simply by her name – Tristan had nodded acceptance while Gawain and Galahad had both been more then happy to oblige.

"Galahad!" Gawain chided with a chuckle, "A pub is hardly a place for a proper lady."

"Ah, but I'm sure the lady is hungry," Galahad suggested. "And Vanora will want to meet her. Bors and Dagnoet will no doubt be there, and I'm sure Aemilia would like an introduction to them as well."

"I would actually," she nodded. Her goal to become acquainted with each of her brother's knights and companions fell short if she did not meet the final two men; and she really was a bit hungry now that she thought about it.

"There," Galahad shot Gawain a grin, "it's settled then."

Gawain shook his head at his younger fellow; Gawain's interest in Aemilia had grown from obvious to down right blatant over the course of the day and he had to wonder if Aemilia realized it or not. It seemed pretty unmistakable to him… His own interest in Aemilia had shifted and in truth it had never been so focused as Galahad's had. She was a beauty, but she was no _Sarmatian_ beauty and so his interest had settled with companionship where she was concerned – he would hold her close as a friend, a sister, as his fellow knights he held as brothers.

It was hard to determine what interest Tristan had in her, though he supposed the scout could be every bit as charmed by her as Galahad was despite his silence. He knew Bors would see her as a pretty child and nothing more; the eldest of their lot would never dream of turning his eye from Vanora anyway. And he could tell already that Dagonet would find the same level of companionship with her as he himelf had.

Lancelot… Gawain grinned at the thought of the petulant knight, frowning and scowling at them from the shadows. He denied his attraction to the girl like it would ruin him to admit he fancied her; it was so strange to see him so reluctant to chase after a lovely young woman. Gawain had never witnessed such restraint in their dark knight before; Lancelot had even been known to pursue less then fair maidens from time to time simply out of boredom and ability. His lack of enthusiasm in Aemilia had a great deal to do with Arthur, he was sure… as close as the two of them were, perhaps Lancelot thought it a betrayal or awkward thing to find interest in his friend's sister? Perhaps Arthur had warned him against it? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps - there were too many possibilities for Gawain to pretend he knew the actual truth.

However, what he did know was that if Lancelot ever planned on taking an interest in Aemilia he had best discover it soon. Galahad was a handsome young man and if she had not already noticed it by now then Aemilia was bound to see this for herself sooner or later.

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**REVIEWS ARE HIGHLY APPRICIATED!!**


	5. Chapter 5

:Summary: Arthur's sister was raised apart from him in Rome for most of their lives, but Aemilia has never fit well with holy Roman ways. When she begins to fear for her life she flees to Briton to reunite with her brother once more; will she find freedom along with the knights, or will she be swallowed whole by the shadows that follow her?

Pre and Movie Canon with several changes made along the way.

:Disclaimer: I do not own 'King Arthur' or any characters associated with the film or legends. All I have is my imagination and OC.

**:Special Thanks To:** TragicCure, Queen Amy, Stickelbatz, Ava-Night, valgal18, Anime Princess, JWritten, Maeve1667

**THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS AND INPUT!**

Stickelbatz: thanks for pointing the typo out to me. Haha! I didn't even realize I'd done it! Poor Tristan XD

Maeve1667: you shall get your scene, perhaps not in this chapter since the relationship between Aemilia and the knights is still fairly new, but it will happen one way or another. I promise. C:

Hour of Need

_Chapter Five_

Aemilia allowed Galahad to lead her off down the street by her arm; the brazen young knight had played to her preferences and in his mind the preferences of women in general all day. His fancy for her had been obvious from the start and she was flattered, but unconvinced by his chivalry and charm. He was a young man, the youngest of the knights, and in search of the same companionship as most men his age.

She'd experienced the same charming before and the company it sought could easily be attained from any women. It wasn't specifically for need of her and she was sure Galahad would come to realize this before long – she didn't hold it against him though. He was good company.

The pub was noisy like only a pub could be, smoky, and the smell of alcohol hung like a cloud across the room. A single bar maiden walked to and fro from table to bar and back again, mugs and dripping goblets in hand each time. Despite the barrel laughter and tipsy talk of the patrons enjoying their evening, it was easily said that the three entering knights and Aemilia were the loudest in the room. In general. Tristan and Aemilia actually didn't make a sound as they entered, but Galahad made enough noise on his own for everyone. The youngest knight immediately sought out the others he was looking for and shouted across the pub to them when he saw them: the tall, broad knight with the gentle eyes and placid face and the shorter, boorish knight she'd seen the day before while greeting Arthur.

Aemilia was dragged by the arm over to a rounded table the two men occupied and ushered into taking a seat at the bench along with her new companions. She ended up wedged between eager Galahad and charming Gawain, directly across from Bors with Dagonet between Galahad and bald, eldest knight. Tristan settled with leaning against a beam beside the table, eyes off somewhere else in the pub, doing what a scout does best: watching.

"We've brought some fairer company along with us tonight, men," Gawain told the other knights they had just joined. He grinned, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Arthur's sister?" Bors frowned at the younger men before settling his eyes on the girl.

"Aemilia." Galahad stressed the sound of her name to the weary looking mean, "Come to be acquainted with you two actually, so show some gratitude. And order a round!" Galahad waved a beckoning hand at the bar maid and Aemilia watched the woman heave a sigh and shake her wavy-haired head.

A touch on her arm brought her attention to Gawain and the man pointed across the table to his fellow knights, "Aemilia… this dashing ray of sunshine here is Bors." His finger carried on to the bar maid working the floor, "and that's his one redeeming feature over there. Vanora."

"Your wife, Sir Bors?" Aemilia questioned and watched the man snort, shaking his head.

"Not yet. Knight's got no business takin' a wife," he looked over to Vanora. " 's pushing for it though."

"They might as well be though," Galahad clarified. "Bors and Vanora have already got eleven children running about their knees."

Aemilia turned wide eyes to the knight in question, "Eleven?"

Bors nodded as he lifted his mug to his mouth, "Noisy little bastards…" He was grinning around his mug as he said this though, dispelling any heat one might have found in it. Aemilia chuckled at it.

Gawain continued with his introductions and pointed to the man at Bors' right, "And this is Dagonet, our resident healer. He's quit well at it too. But don't let it fool you! He's a wonder at war, be with sword or axe!"

"Pleasure, Sir Dagonet," she gave the placid faced knight a smile.

"Milady," Dagonet nodded in greeting.

"Please," she held up a hand as though to wave the title away form the air Dagonet had spoken it into. "Please, just call me Aemilia. All this 'milady' business isn't at all necessary."

The broad man hesitated, as though unsure whether or not agreeing was right of him or not, but nodded after a moment. "Very well… Aemilia." He offered a smile in return to the one she gave him upon his using her name.

A bar of awkwardness seemed to lift off the table after that moment; a shroud of uncertainty of not knowing what was the proper way to behave around their commander's sister had been written clear across both Bors' and Dagonet's faces and Aemilia was glad to see it cleared away.

She'd met the six knights her brother led throughout Briton now and felt accomplished for having done it. While the men around her began discussing what she could only call 'knightly business', Aemilia ran each man through her head, looking at each of them in turn as she thought…

Tristan was still standing with his back against a nearby beam, face turned away from the table and conversations, but she couldn't help but think he was aware of everything that was said and done. Even with his head and eyes turned away from them all. His silence was a stark difference to some of his fellow knights, but she couldn't call it cold. He didn't really come across as indifferent or detached so much as he just seemed… disinclined. His duty as a scout called for silence and the patience it came with for observation. He watched and knew, calculated and devised, but he did so in silence simply because that was his way. He'd spoken to her directly only once and the discussion had been short and to the point; he'd briefly told her of his hawk, Isolde. The care and affection he'd spoken of his winged companion with was what led her to believe the cool exterior he showed was not a mirror of what lay within him.

Gawain was a very feline like creature, but more a lion then a house cat. His mane of hair and the whiskers of his beard only added to the effect. He seemed a sturdy man, aware of his place in this world and wore a grin despite any negative thing he might come to. She enjoyed his company almost to the point of fancy and she supposed that it was probably the same for any other woman that he might aim a morning smile to in passing.

Galahad was a young man and it was very clear in his voice and the light of his eyes. The heavy beard he wore almost seemed out of place on his face and led her to believe it was fairly new to him, coveted and a source of pride to him most likely. He jumped into things head first it seemed, eager to become immersed in whatever good thing he came across. She liked him much as she liked Gawain, but the interest and attention he showered over her made her hesitant towards him. He acted on impulse and more times then not impulsive deeds done were not the favorite deeds of a person's life later on.

Bors did not wear a mask. His face showed every once of feeling he felt to the point that Aemilia could see the frequent lines of frowns and fight in his forehead and along his eyes even with his mood as placid as it was now. She imagined him a man who lived his life as though he were constantly under attack, and with living as a knight for so long she supposed maybe he was. But despite the anger in him she did not feel as though he were a mean spirited man; his words were gruff, but the tone beneath them wasn't always. Like when he'd mentioned his children… calling them bastards wasn't the most pleasant, fatherly thing a man could say about his offspring, but the affection and genuine care had been there even if the words had not.

Dagonet seemed a man with longing, but no means to express it. Where Bors was completely without a mask, Dagonet seemed hesitant to ever remove his. Aemilia could see the gentle nature of him in his eyes; visible behind the stone-faced mask he wore. She wondered at what he longed for and found herself hoping he found it someday. The man had a soul too kind to be refused even his deepest of desires.

"…speakin' of which," Bor's voice cut into her thoughts, "We're short a pair a devils! Where's Arthur and his second best?"

"Second best?" Aemilia frowned, not understanding.

"He means Lancelot," Gawain explained before shrugging to Bors. "Arthur's probably walled up in a room praying to that god of his. And knowing Lancelot, he's most likely up in a room himself conducting a different sort of worship…"

Lancelot… in the excitement of the day, Aemilia had forgotten him.

She'd liked him immediately, but he'd seemed a stark difference this morning compared to how he'd been the day before during their journey to Vindolanda. He had a dark charm about him; rich dark curls on his head and a rugged chin and jaw. He seemed the sort of man who was very sure of himself, the kind that knew how blessed he was visually and openly flaunted it as best he could. Aemilia thought perhaps she'd glimpsed a part of that through the rain the previous day, but it had left him by the time she'd seen him again this morning. And the way Gawain spoke of him, well, it only confirmed that the man was indeed aware of his charms and used them to the best of his advantage. Yet he'd been by all accounts dismissive of her hours earlier.

"I'd think he'd trek around the village with you lot is all," Bors shrugged a shoulder.

"No, Sir Lancelot had pressing business to attend to," Aemilia came to the vacant man's aide.

Galahad shook his head, "that was a load of rubbish. He'd come to spare this morning out of boredom and lack of purpose to this day. He had no pressing business to attend to. He didn't have any business at all!"

"So…" she frowned softly at the knight. "Why would he say so then?"

The youngest knight shrugged his shoulders, looking and sounding sour about the topic, "…Who knows such things?"

"Tristan toured the village with ya and Lancelot didn't?" Bors' brows lifted and his scowling mouth quirked in a smirk. He gestured at Aemilia, "With you there? Has the world gone bloody mad?"

"Is it really so strange of him?" Aemilia tried, "Perhaps he just didn't feel like joining?"

"Ah no," Bors shook his head pointedly, "I've known that bloody peacock most his life. If he didn't go even just ta get his hands on you then there's something a miss with him." Bors looked around the table at his fellow knights and was greeted with nods of agreement. "That fool will chase down near about anything with a skirt."

Aemilia stared at Bors in a mix of wonder and alarm," …Really?"

The man nodded, "Guaranteed he'll be the one to lead a different lady to his room every night we're home." The man cast a quick glance around the pub, "Surprised he isn't in here actually; 's about the hour he should be sniffin' out a lady from the crowd…"

"Bors…" Dagonet gave his fellow a look, glancing towards Aemilia, "Another discussion in front of the lady, perhaps?"

Bors grunted and pointed directly at Aemilia, "'s good for her to know!" He next directed his eyes at the girl herself, the expression of a warning father on his face if Aemilia had ever seen one, "Make sure to stay clear of that one. Should stay clear of all these damn fool pups actually!" He gestured around to all his fellow knights, specifically at Galahad who didn't seem to like the attention all that much. Aemilia chuckled at the youngest knight's scowl.

"Quiet down the shouting!" The bar maiden pointed out as Bors' lover, Vanora, scowled at the group as she came up to the table with the round of drinks Galahad had ordered before along with a loaf of warm bread and cheese. She set the mugs on the table and placed her hands on her hips, huffing a sigh and looking at the lot like they were causing her mass amounts of grief. "All your barking 's gonna scare the customers away!"

"You should be thanking us then I think, Vanora," Gawain grinned. "Fewer hours with fewer drunks around."

"Aye, and fewer pay!" She gave the blond a look, but it wasn't a thing of anger. It actually looked amused, affectionate even. Her eyes fell on Aemilia and the look on her face turned to question, "And who's this?"

"Aemilia Castus," Galahad answered immediately. "Arthur's sister come to stay."

"Sister?" Vanora looked from Aemilia and Galahad down to Bors and delivered a smart smack to the back of his bald head, "You never said a word to me about any sister of Arthur's coming to stay!"

Bors winced at the strike and tone of his lady, shoulders hunching low, "…slipped me mind."

Aemilia couldn't help the chuckle in her throat at the sight of the two. Bors, the strong and angry and coarse, beaten back into submission by a lovely, petit bar maiden… What a pair they made.

Vanora shook her head at the man, sighing as though in exasperation of him. When she looked back at Aemilia, however, she had a lovely smile on her work-tired face, "Pleasure to meet you, darling. Have these brutes been treatin' you fair?"

The warning look Vanora passed around the table and over to Tristan made Aemilia laugh again while she nodded, "Very."

"Good." Vanora nodded pleasantly before giving Bors another look, "Well? You just gonna sit there or are you gonna introduce me to the girl?"

"She knows who you are!" Bors defended himself.

"Does she now?" Vanora looked to Aemilia, "Do you?"

"I do," Aemilia nodded. "Vanora, yes? Sir Bors told me what a wonder you are to him; and mother to eleven children!" Aemilia shook her head, "How can you do it?"

A smile leapt to the other woman's face, "It's a gift I suppose." A patron across the room called to Vanora and she cast a frown in his direction, sighing as she began to walk away again. She reached over the table and clasped Aemilia's shoulder before she did though, smiling wide at her, "Now you listen, love. You just have one of these dogs bring you out to my place some day and we'll have a day of talk and lady business."

Aemilia agreed eagerly before Vanora left their table. She liked the fiery woman; the prospect of having a lady companion to talk and connect with leaving her overjoyed. She'd never really had a lady friend before in Rome; Pelagius had nearly been the only other person she could connect with and even then it had always been limited at a father to daughter level. Or pupil to teacher.

"Should be careful of her too..." Bors added once Vanora had left earshot. "She'll turn a harpy outta you." From the way his eye lingered on her Aemilia could tell the man loved the lady despite what he said.

"If I'm to fight off peacocks and fool pups perhaps it's best I do become a harpy then," Aemilia suggested with an amused grin. She got a round of laughter from the group. She looked to Dagonet, "And really I would like to learn something of the healing you do, Sir Dagonet. I know a few simple tricks with herbs and roots, but I would love to learn more."

Dagonet looked surprised by her interest and attention to him. He gave a tentative smile, "I'd be honored to teach you."

"I'd actually love to learn something of each of you," she confessed to the men around her as they enjoyed their mugs of ale and company. "A talent you each posses perhaps? Sword fighting, bow shooting, axe… axing."

The men chuckled at her. Galahad specifically gave her a look, "What would you want to learn those for?"

"Well, I've got to do something while I'm here," she stressed. "I can't just sit up in my room all day."

"But…" Galahad's brow furrowed. "Shouldn't a lady learn weaving or sewing type things? Combat is hardly a thing you should learn."

"Well… I suppose not, but what harm could it do?" She looked around at the others for an answer.

"Yes, but…" Galahad still seemed perplexed by this, "healing I understand, but to handle a sword or bow? What use would you have for them?"

"Galahad," Gawain gave his fellow a look, "this isn't Rome. If the lady wishes to learn to fight then let her." Aemilia smiled and the blond knight gave her a wink before taking a healthy gulp from his mug. He swallowed and continued, "And it will be good for her to know should we be swept off to god knows where can't watch over her."

"Vanora is left alone here when we go and she's never been met with trouble," Galahad tried to argue, but Gawain was right there to meet the man head on.

"Vanora could best you in a fight of fists, that's why." Gawain and the rest all laughed at this, Galahad left as the only one frowning in the group.

"Fine." The youngest knight shrugged, looking put out, "I just don't see why you'd _want_ to learn such things is all."

Aemilia tucked some stray dark hair back behind her ear, looking pleased and happy, "I've always wanted to learn to properly shoot a bow. I'd never had the means to learn before now and seeing as now I've the company of several talented knights I might as well as take advantage of the situation." She smiled around at them, "Right?"

"Flawless logic as ever," Gawain grinned.

Aemilia helped herself to a bit of the food laid out before them while the men drank as far as their mugs would allow them, turning them skyward to catch the last drop that clung to the bottom.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

His day had not been so charming an affair as he had hoped it would be. It had started out well enough by his standards; he'd had a pleasant breakfast with a few of his fellows, wore clean dry clothes, and there hadn't been a rain cloud in sight this day. But after his decision to join Galahad along with Tristan and Gawain in a morning spare things had progressively gotten worse. Galahad had not been happy to hear the position Arthur had appointed him to where Aemilia was concerned and had been vocal about it. And then the girl herself had made an appearance and he knew Gawain and Tristan at least recognized the mess he'd put himself in upon seeing the girl – Aemilia was a lovely girl after all. He'd been wrong to claim otherwise.

But it didn't matter at this point; she'd gone off with them for the day and he'd stayed behind. His fellow knights had seen right through his lie of having business to attend to this day, and he had the sinking suspicion that perhaps even Aemilia had seen through it a little herself. He would have liked to have joined them, usually would have with a young maiden like Aemilia present, but he was a stubborn man and going would have only provoked the others into dirtying his name to the girl in front of him. They would most certainly have called him on his earlier words of denying her charm, and he doubted he could have concealed his interest in her for long – old habits die hard after all.

Either way, he was sure they sullied his name to her during the day anyway. The thought didn't make matters any better for him.

He felt to seek out Arthur and cut this arrangement short. His friend's faith in him was the only thing that kept him from doing just that – he'd tried to. He'd made an honest effort to put an end to his service to Aemilia before it began, but he hadn't been able to. Arthur had been down on his knees when Lancelot entered the man's chambers and when questioned, ridiculed actually, for the display Arthur's only answer had been, "Say what you will, Lancelot. I have much to be thankful for."

And he's been unable, unwilling, to fight the other. Argument caged and silenced at least for now, he'd watched the other pray a moment and then left as quickly as he'd come. His inability to deny his friend anything infuriated Lancelot, but he was still always the one to relent between them. So he was stuck with the task of watching Arthur's sister, escorting and guiding her, and he had no idea where she was… not the best start. And he couldn't very well drown his problems in the pub as he normally would, find a willing lady and forget his troubles; no, the men were most likely all down there and he'd be the butt of their conversations should he show his face. And Galahad would be a right horror this evening after his day with Aemilia – Lancelot didn't think he could take the pup's boasting and eager need to recount every minute detail of the day to him simply for show this evening.

And so his rotten day was complete. He was trapped with no way out, frustrated with no means of release, and had no ale to drown it all away with. What a nightmare…

His walk back to his rooms was a long one this evening, but perhaps only because he made it alone for the first time in as long as he could remember. He supposed that was it, and he found the thought of that a bit pathetic. He was a grown man, a knight – he shouldn't need someone with him like this. But he did and he scowled at it, arms down heavy at his side and head tilted to the floor in an irritable fashion. The silence of the hall was so deafening to him that when laughter rang out behind him he nearly went for the swords he carried on his back, realizing belatedly that it would have been no use drawing them… he wasn't carrying them.

Down the hall a bit he could see the small group that had formed and recognized the members immediately as Aemilia, Gawain and Galahad. The knights seemed to be wishing her a well evening before turning down the other way to their own rooms; she waved them off, standing still in place a moment before turning to face the hall Lancelot was in. He couldn't have avoided her gaze if he wanted to – he wasn't sure if he wanted to or not.

"Sir Lancelot?" She approached with a hesitant step, tilting her head in the torchlight that lined the hall walls to better see his face. She recognized him as soon as she spoke his name and her approach relaxed. She smiled at him and he found himself returning the expression as well, "Retiring for the evening?"

"I am." He nodded and then gestured back to where Gawain and Galahad had left her, "Did you enjoy your tour?"

"Very much," she nodded in turn. "Did you sort out your business well enough?"

The way she looked at him he knew she was aware of his lie, but surprisingly he found no hurt or anger for him in her eyes. She had just accepted it as it was and he wasn't so sure whether that was a good thing or not. "I did," he cleared his throat. "It turned out to not have been so pressing as I thought this morning. I am sorry to have missed the day with you."

She waved his words off, smiling in show of how unnecessary she saw his apology to be. "Perhaps you will join us the next time then?"

"I will, milady." He glanced down the hall and then back to her, "For now, might I escort you back to your room? To make up for my absence this day?"

"Thank you," she nodded and offered her hand to him, which he tucked into the crook of his arm before leading her down the hall. They walked in silence a while, the sound of their feet on the floor the only noise throughout the hall and as they approached her door Aemilia turned to the knight once more, "I was sad to have not seen my brother today. Was he very busy?"

Lancelot chuckled, "Arthur is always busy with one thought or another. He'll read a notice or a letter and be lost to it for hours; he has always been that way." He eased her arm from his as they stopped in front of her door, "I am sure he will see to you in the morrow, though. You might not have been in his presence, but you were in his prayers."

"Prayers?" She chuckled at the knight, "I thought you a man without care or belief in such colorful things."

Lancelot shrugged, "Perhaps made for the right reasons they can be believed. It is hard to mock a man for his beliefs when he thanks for the safe return of a loved one to him and asks for continued safety over them."

She studied his face a while, looking back and forth between his eyes thoughtfully before gracing him with a tired smile. "I suppose you are right." She sighed and the excitement of the day tolled heavily on her lovely face, making her look tired and eager for rest. "Thank you for walking me, Sir Lancelot. I will see you in the morrow?"

The knight nodded, "Sleep well, milady." He watched her open and disappear through her door before turning away to finish the walk to his own room. The walk was not so dark an experience to him anymore.


End file.
